Missy
by Im-In-A-Shower
Summary: Missy's life was hard sometimes. Being a Seer in Camelot under King Uther's reign will do that to a person. Follow her final moments in this short story.


**Hello everyone, this is my first Merlin based story, set before Merlin actually went to Camelot. **

**CONSTRUCITVLY criticise thank you :)**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own Merlin or anything BBC.**

**Missy**

Life for Missy was difficult sometimes. Being a sorcerer in a kingdom that bans magic would do that though. Walking through the bustling market, she weaved in and out through the crowds of buyers and sellers, her feet taking her to the apothecary. Her pale blue eyes glanced around warily, watching the passers-by as she reached the building.

She entered the building, seeming to look through the wares until she reached a large wooden door at the back of the shop and carefully rapped her knuckles against it four times

"Password," called an old, but strong and powerful voice on the other side of the door.

"Haven't a clue," Missy called back cheerfully, brushing her dark hair out of her face as the entrance was opened to her. "Morning Mother."

"Good morning my dear, do you have your scrying bowl?"

Mother wasn't actually Missy's mother, but it was the name she was known as to everyone who dealt with her in magic and magical items. The people who only consulted with her for her poultices and tinctures know her as Old Lady Healer. Missy didn't know anyone who actually knew her real name.

Missy took her plain brass bowl out of her satchel and nodded. "I find that water is my favoured scrying implement Mother."

Mother smiled. "That is good child, this means you will see the flow of life, instead of the fleeting glances air offers, the brutality fire offers or the uncertainty of earth. Water is a good conductor." She nodded again and hobbled unaided further into her cluttered abode to the room she had set aside for teachings of magic.

The old woman's gnarled fingers reached for Missy's most precious item, the same scrying bowl her mother had used before the King's Great Purge. The bowl was a simple brass, with another layer of tempered metal twisting its way around the rim. "Perhaps, we should-"

"Mother! Mother!" a young boy, no more than ten summers, came running into the room they were in. "The Smith is being questioned!"

"Whatever for?" Mother probed, a confused frown on her face. Then realisation dawned on her face. "That nosy busybody!" she screeched. Missy jumped at the sudden outburst, the long braided hair whipping around as she turned to Mother.

"What? What is it?" fear showing on Missy's face.

"The Smith was acting quite suspiciously the other morning, nosing around here. Should've known he'd report anything he saw." Mother muttered to herself. "He must've seen me preparing the tinctures and poultices with my magic."

Not even a breath after Mother finished speaking, there was a tremendous crash as the soldiers of the kingdom stormed into Mother's quaint apothecary. The men brutally grabbed Mother by the arms, speaking as they went out the door. "You are under arrest under the suspicion of sorcery."

"Stop! Can't you see you are hurting her?" Missy screamed at the chainmail clad guards. "STOP!" With that final bloodcurdling scream, she unleashed all of her magic, held back by many years of fear. Missy would fear no longer, she would fight for the justice of her kin, all those murdered by the tyrant that calls himself King.

The soldiers were thrown backwards, into the clay brick wall, and all of the glass vials shattered, along with the breaking of the clay pots and bowls. Wooden splinters flew all around the room, imbedding in any surface they could, breaking through the wall and through flesh.

Missy was too busy wreaking havoc to notice a cloaked man coming up behind her, striking her across the head, casting her mind into darkness.

Missy floated in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of the world around her. She couldn't decide if minutes had passed or hours. This was answered for her when she awoke to a guard opening the loud iron gate to her dreary cell.

She was unceremoniously dragged out of the cold prison, towards the courtyard where she knew the heat of the pyre awaited her. She was surprised at the sheer amount of people that were there to watch her burn. The guards came to a halt after they had tied her securely to the post in the middle of the kindling.

She raised her eyes to where the King, Crown Prince and the other Nobles' stood on the grey stone balcony. "This woman has been accused of the highest treason, that of sorcery." The Kings booming voice filtered through the courtyard. "Let this be a lesson to you all, sorcery is not condoned in my Kingdom." He nodded, and the guards below her lit the first sticks on fire.

The heat began to get intense, but her eyes never left the Kings lined face. Just as the flames licked up her legs, she screamed for all to hear "I am not the evil in this land! It is you!"

Those were the last words Missy ever said before the burn of the flames became too much and she started to scream. She knew that the King would get what he deserved one day.


End file.
